Page 26

She nodded, and I lifted her into my arms. She was light, delicate, as she wrapped her arms around my neck while I carried her to the bed, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. I laid her down gently on the white sheets. Then I stood there for a moment, just looking at her. Dark red hair spread across a pillow, her pale skin against white cotton, that dress riding up her thighs.

“You’re staring,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“I can’t help it. You’re—” I stopped, searching for words. “You’re everything.”

I kneeled beside the bed, took off my jacket, and loosened my tie. Her eyes followed every movement, and I could see the want in them, the curiosity, the fear. I wanted to erase the fear. Wanted to show her there was nothing to be afraid of. That I would never hurt her. That I would worship every inch of her if she would let me.

I reached for her ankle and slipped off her shoe. Then the other. My hands slid up her calf, her knee, her thigh, and she shivered under my touch.

“Cold?” I asked.

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “The opposite.”

I smiled and leaned over her, bracing myself on my hands so I was hovering above her but not touching. “Tell me if you want me to stop. At any point. For any reason. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

I kissed her again, and this time there was no hesitation. She pulled me down, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I let my weight settle against her. The feeling of her body beneath mine was almost too much. The soft curves and warmth and the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine. I could feel her heart racing, could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her dress.

My hands found the zipper at the back of her dress, and I pulled it down slowly, the sound of it loud in the quiet room. The fabric parted under my fingers, revealing smooth, pale skin inch by inch. I traced the line of her spine with my fingertips as I lowered the zipper, and she arched into my touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“Lift up for me,” I murmured against her mouth, and she did, raising her hips so I could slide the dress down. I peeled it away slowly, savoring every moment, every new expanse of skin revealed. The dress pooled at her feet, and I tossed it aside. And then she was lying there in nothing but black lace. A bra and panties that made my mouth go dry and my cock throb painfully against my zipper.

Christ. She was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Her skin was porcelain pale, smooth and flawless, and I wanted to touch every inch of her. Wanted to taste every inch of her. Her breasts were full and round, straining against the lace, her nipples hard and visible through the fabric. Her, lying there, with her long, lean legs trembling… it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

“You’re staring again,” she whispered, but there was less nervousness now. More heat.

“I can’t help it.” I reached out and traced the line of her collarbone with one finger, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I leaned down and kissed her neck, right where her pulse hammered. Her skin was warm and soft under my lips, and she tasted like salt and sweetness and something darker, something that made me want to devour her. I kissed my way down, following the line of her throat, feeling her swallow hard beneath my mouth. My hands explored while I kissed her, sliding over her ribs, her waist, the curve of her hip. Her skin was like silk, impossibly soft, and everywhere I touched she responded, arching into my hands, making small sounds in the back of her throat that were driving me insane. I could feel the heat of her through the lace of her panties when my hand slid over her hip, could feel how badly she wanted this.

I kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, then lower, to the swell of her breasts above the lace. She gasped when my mouth closed over her nipple through the fabric, her hands flying to my hair, gripping hard. I sucked gently, feeling her nipple harden further under my tongue as she moaned. The sound went straight to my cock and made it throb.

“Salvatore,” she breathed.

Hearing my name on her lips like that, breathy and desperate, nearly undid me.

I reached behind her and unhooked her bra with fingers that were shaking. Slid the straps down her arms and tossed it aside. And then she was bare from the waist up, and I couldn’t breathe.

Her breasts were perfect. Full and round with pale pink nipples that were hard, begging for my mouth. I cupped one in my hand, feeling the weight, the softness, as she arched into my palm with a whimper that made my heart slam against my ribs.

I lowered my head and took her nipple into my mouth. The taste of her, clean and sweet and perfect, flooded my senses. I sucked gently, then harder when she moaned and pulled me closer. My tongue circled her nipple, flicked over it, as she writhed beneath me, her hips lifting, seeking friction. My hand slid down her stomach, flat and soft and trembling under my touch as I hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties. I pulled slowly, watching her face, giving her time to stop me. But she didn’t. She lifted her hips to help me, and then she was completely naked beneath me, and I forgot how to think.

She was exquisite.

Every curve, every line, every inch of pale skin. Her dark red curls between her thighs. The way her chest rose and fell rapidly. The beautiful flush of pink spreading across her skin.

I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh. Fuck, she was soft, so impossibly soft, and she trembled under my touch. My fingers brushed against her moist folds. She was wet and hot, and I groaned at the feel of her.

“Christ, Madigan,” I muttered, my voice rough. “You’re so wet for me.”

She made a sound, half embarrassment, half need, and I kissed her to swallow it. My fingers explored gently, slipping easily between her lips, so hot, so wet, and she gasped into my mouth when my finger found the spot that made her hips jerk.

“Does that feel good?” I asked against her lips.